


if nothing is fun

by palinodes



Series: scream in there [3]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Birthday Party, Boston, Canon Disabled Character, Domestic Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mention of SIDS, Mentions of Manes Brothers, Not Beta Read, Postpartum Depression, Protective Michael, Temper Tantrums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24480508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palinodes/pseuds/palinodes
Summary: Michael is gonna give his kid a good first birthday, all on his own. Even if he has to learn what a smash cake is and fight his whole family in order to do it.Or, Michael Guerin is Super Dad.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: scream in there [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1479869
Comments: 101
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> if i missed anything that should be tagged, lemme know.

Getting some distance from Roswell and having River had softened Alex in the most incredible ways. Shades of the boy Michael fell in love with amplified and expanded. 

He has hardened to the sharpest point in other ways. 

Last December, when they traveled back to Roswell, Liz began testing River’s blood for adverse reactions. She seemed a little too excited to be doing it. Apparently, Alex went to bite Liz at some point. They had a full group meeting about it and it didn’t go all that well. 

“I will slit you, deep and clean, at the belly and drag your corpse into the desert myself.”

“Alexander,” Isobel exclaims. 

Alex shakes his head. He is so sleep deprived that he sported purple-yellow rings under his eyes. “No. No, enough. Liz, Max: no more making decisions for the whole group without consulting everyone. Things have changed. I’m not fucking around anymore.” 

Liz, packing up her computer, huff and tells him that they understand. 

“No,” Alex shouts following her as she heads for the door. “No, you do not. None of you _understand_. You do not know how Michael and I feel. How could you possibly ‘understand’?”

“Oh, take a pill, Manes.”

“Excuse me?” 

Liz turns back to the group and stalks towards him. She raises her hand and points, her bracelets ratting with the force of her movement. “Teeth grazed skin five times!”

That startled Alex back for a split second before he shakes it off. “It was once. You were being pretty rough with a three month old.”

“I was not. I was careful and you know it. And it was five!”

“It was three,” Kyle confirms. They both turn towards him, confused as to when he appeared next to them. The doctor roughly tugs at Alex’s earlobe and tells him if he leaves without saying goodbye his feelings will be hurt. 

Liz and Alex ended up hugging, but anyone could tell that it was stilted and that both parties still thought they were in the right. 

Later that same night, Michael tried to get some clarity as to what happened before he got there and it was abundantly clear that Alex doesn’t remember. Alex had then gotten downright mean when Michael mentioned that men sometimes get postpartum depression.

They were already pretty isolated in a new city, and that was Alex’s MO when he felt upset. He would hole himself up with River when Michael was at school or work. He was easily stressed and tired. He had lost nearly all interest in sex. He was tired and more quick to cry. 

“I’m happy to have him.”

“I know you are. It has nothing to do with the kid.”

“I love him. I’m trying to take good care of him.”

“You do take good care of him. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Because Rosa and I are crazy, right? I had one bad month and now any time I’m anything but neutral something has to be clinically wrong with me? ‘Take a pill, Manes.’”

“She didn’t mean it like that,” Michael said. He hoped she hadn’t. 

Alex stomped into the cabin bathroom and came back with their camelbak filled. He dug around in his backpack that had quickly become their makeshift diaper bag and took out two orange bottles. He removed one pill from each bottle and angrily swallowed them. He took out his phone and typed out a few things on his phone before tossing it with the screen still lit up onto Michael’s lap. The screen read: “Confirmation #492: Congratulations! You are now registered for Brookline’s Emotional Trauma support group at 50 Sewall Ave on Tuesdays at 7pm. See you then!” 

Michael smirked and held his arms open. When Alex hesitated, Michael forcefully patted his lap. Alex relented and laid down with his head resting on Michael’s thighs. 

“I am sorry that I made a scene and embarrassed you in front of your family. I’ll do better. I’ll adjust.” 

Alex nuzzled into his legs, his eyes fell closed a few moments later. 

“Hey,” Michael whispered. When Alex didn’t move, Michael caressed his love’s stubbled cheek. “Hey, you awake?” Alex exhaled deeply and nodded. “I don’t have an issue with you establishing a fuckin’ line in the sand with people when it comes to us. Do I wish you had been less gory about it? Sure. I mean, to be honest, not really, because as my work study Ginny would say: big mood. It’s just tough for me to see you havin’ a hard time.” Alex opens his mouth. “Baby, if you are about to apologize, I swear down.” 

Alex had a bit of a martyr streak and Michael didn’t want to see him scrap all his progress because he thought he had to in order for Michael and River to be okay. 

Because it’s the opposite. 

Michael couldn’t take seeing him get stuck 

* * *

Alex has kept his promise for months and now, in a couple weeks, River is turning one. It’s a crisp Sunday morning in Boston. They board the T to head towards Downtown Crossing station. Michael has River strapped to his chest in a carrier. Alex turns and beams at them as the subway doors close. The Massachusetts wind gives his cheeks a touch of a red. Alex kisses him full on the mouth, letting out a low groan. He pulls back before he pecks Michael’s lips a handful of times. He turns his attention to River, pushing the child’s hood down and rubbing their noses together. 

“If you don’t cool it on the PDA, every teenage girl in this car is gonna combust.” 

“I’m sorry. I know it’s stupid, but the doctor said he can sleep in the bed. I’m—I’m so excited.” 

Michael nods, pressing his lips to Alex’s temple. He tells him he heard it, too. It will make things so much easier, not only because of Alex’s mobility, but for his sanity, too. 

When River came into their lives, Alex became singularly obsessed with SIDS, which Michael wasn’t even sure was a thing for alien babies. Regardless, by the time that got back to Boston, Alex was reading everything on it he could. 

He spent many nights in those first weeks in their new apartment looking at Alex as he sat up in bed. His parting mouth, his bloodshot eyes. Michael assured him over and over for days that he felt River breathing, he just did, and that everything was fine. It wasn’t until nearly a month in that Alex confessed, his voice rough and muffled by his knee, “But I can’t. I can’t feel him. And it’s not—it’s not—”

“As easy for you to pop out of bed and check on him as it is for me.”

“Yeah.” 

A few days later Alex came home to find a bassinet attached to his side of the bed. Before Michael could finish explaining his rationale: when Michael leaves for work, he’ll just put River in here. That way River learns his independence, but when Michael isn’t home Alex doesn’t have to worry about him being a room away. He got out a few syllables before Alex started weeping and kissing Michael’s face. 

“Did I do somethin’ wrong?” he asked, only partially serious. 

* * *

A birthday party never occurred to Michael until his lab partner, Samba, asked him when it was and what they had planned for the big 0-1. 

Michael told him they were having a small party next week and that his sister would be in town and you know what, Samba and his girl should stop by. 

Samba’s eyebrows found a new home nearly at top of his bald head. “We should?” 

“Hell, yeah. Hell, yeah, man. I’ll email you the details.” 

His lab partner laughed and shook his head as he passed him on his way to the scanner. 

That was two days ago and Michael is in a blind panic. He began frantically googling that day and hasn’t stopped since. He spent all of his lunch break that day learning phrases like “smash cake” and trying to figure out color accents. 

He tried not to scoff when Alex suggested calling Isobel for help. He shouldn’t need someone else’s help to throw a kid’s birthday party. Thankfully, Kyle and Isobel actually were already coming into town that weekend for a visit. 

But he doesn’t need her. 

He can do it on his own. 

* * *

Stores make his skin crawl. It has always bothered Michael that Target doesn’t really have a smell. Sometimes he’ll get a whiff of bleach or a woman’s perfume. But the lack of sensory placement always throws him off. The lights are too intense, reminding him of a flashlight to the eyes, or worse a hospital. The lab is bright, but it also softened by the smell of wood, sweat, disinfectant, and glue. 

Michael met River and Alex here on a quiet Monday evening to scout for things for the party and the rest of his team is being decidedly unhelpful. He is tired and still in the ridiculous pleated slacks he had to wear because of a presentation his team had. His supervisor had tutted at his worn out cream sweater and let him borrow a button down that Michael sweat through immediately. He promised to return it clean when he changed back into his own shirt and threw his boots back on as soon as the presentation ended. 

Alex and River showed up in jeans and hoodies. River’s has bear ears on the hood. 

“What about this?” Michael holds up a yellow onesie emblazoned with a golden, sparkly “I’m ONEderful” on its front for Alex’s inspection. 

He finds Alex leaning with the bulk of his weight against the cart and watching as River pulls a holographic Red Sox cap off the rack. Alex’s hair is falling into his eyes, making him look more boyish than usual. 

“No,” Alex says half-heartedly before he laughs. “No, River. Give it to me.” River giggles and hugs the hat closer. “Fine,” he relents, running a hand through his product-free hair. “Do not put it in your mouth.” 

River promptly chomps on the hat’s brim. 

Alex tries and fails to hold a stern expression when River holds out the hat for Alex to taste, as well. Michael drops the shirt into the cart and takes it from him. He adjusts the hat on his baby’s head and then flips the price tag over. “On clearance. 3.50. No harm done.” 

Alex sighs in relief and pushes the cart out of the clothing section. The hat lasts a whole two seconds before it is thrown onto the store floor. Michael picks it up, tosses it into the cart, and bops River on the forehead twice. 

They head towards the party supplies, letting older couples and teenagers coo over River along the way. Michael understands that every parent thinks that their kid is beautiful, but his baby actually _is_ that beautiful. River is literally out of this world lovely and that just is an objective fact. The public fawning is immense and Michael cannot blame people. The kid is like an angel baby, with his dark hazel eyes, chubby cheeks, olive skin, his cute front teeth, wisps of oncoming curls in his hair, and his precious little ears. 

Michael stops in front of a wall of decorations. “What about this?” he asks, holding up napkins with smiling cartoon puppies on them. He turns to find Alex again ignoring him in favor of cupping River’s face, humming and smiling as he caresses their son’s cheeks.

It still kinda knocks the wind outta Michael. His magic family. Alex sent him what must have been twenty ‘everything will be fine, you’ll do great’ texts today. Earlier, when he went to get a cart for them and came back, River reached out for him and cried until Michael held him. Michael had to talk to him for a few minutes before River would deign to be placed in the baby seat. 

He can only imagine what people must be thinking. 

What the older couples whisper about him after they get out of earshot. 

_How did a walking disaster like him swing those two?_

He drops the overpriced napkins back into the bin and pulls his phone out of his back pocket. A Pavlovian response, at this point. Between Isobel and himself they must have a full terabyte of River footage by now. Regardless, he starts to record and takes comfort in the relaxed lines of Alex’s body. He is no longer constantly hyper-aware. He is not trying to angle his body in a certain way, to escape or manipulate the lens. Alex just continues to shower the child in affection. Telling River where his fingers are, where his toes are, and asking if he could say “birthday.” River gurgles out an attempt. Alex congratulates him on his brilliance with kisses all over his face. River just laughs, light and silly. He grabs at Alex’s nose. Without breaking eye contact with the toddler, Alex asks, “Is that for Isobel?”

Michael nods and presses send.

Isobel quickly sends back: **MY BABIES. I am going to dieeeee**. 

**technically my babies but ok.**

Alex and River were officially a distraction from his objective. 

They spend the next forty minutes or so holding up different Halloween costumes for River to choose. 

He picks the avocado one. 

* * *

Michael gets home very late. It is nearly 8:30 when he enters the apartment with a bang but he only has a few days left to throw this thing together. Kicking the door open, a bag under each arm, he announces, “They have no Paddington stuff anywhere in this city. None.” 

Alex is sat at the kitchen table, typing quickly on his laptop. He still gets consulting gigs on occasion. His reading glasses are sliding down his nose and his eyes remain affixed to his screen. “Right, well, we don’t live in Bath, England. Get an animal theme. Or a serial killer theme, because he isn’t going to remember. Because he is an actual baby.” 

He places his shopping bags in the hall closet and carefully closes the door, the old hinges make almost every door slam unless they are careful. 

“Where is the baby?” 

Alex types with one hand and raises their video baby monitor with the other. 

Michael presses a kiss to Alex’s hair as he walks by and then gently slides his glasses back to their logical place. He opens the nursery door slowly. Cringing at the creaky floorboards, he pads over to the crib. River is sleeping in the position that indicates he is deep asleep. His head had fallen to the left, his arms were stretched out at his sides and his knees were bent and tucked to his right. His rosebud mouth twitches, soft exhales come swiftly through his nose. Michael lightly touches his warm cheek and whispers his apologies for missing him today. He promises to be home for dinner tomorrow. 

He finds that Alex has moved on to a new task. He is still at the table, but now he is placing jars of sunbutter into the foster care kits that his support group makes every month. The guilt over not being able to take a kid in because of their delicate situation will never go away and they try to make up for it where they can. When Alex convinced his group to work with the Boston YMCA and make the kits, he asked Michael what he would have wanted. He said peanut butter, because he could keep it in his backpack, you can eat it with your fingers, and it took forever to go bad. 

Alex fastidiously checks the last few items off his kit list. He puts them into the crate carefully, all the bags lined up neatly next to one another. He takes off his glasses and pitches them on the table top. He catches Michael staring then and holds his gaze. Alex gives him a small grin, even bats his eyelashes a little. “Don’t beat yourself up for missing one bedtime. You were on a quest, after all.” 

Michael ignores Alex’s kind words in favor of shoveling some supper down and telling him about his day. Alex sits on the floor, takes off his prosthetic. He stretches and uses his foam roller on his lip. He is in the middle of telling Alex about the fifth store he went to, when his partner laughs lowly in between grunting breaths. He sits up straight, a pretty flush adorns his skin and sweat has pooled around his temples. He grins. 

“Why are you so fixated on this? What can I do to help?” 

Michael never had a birthday party as a kid. He knows from talking with Alex, he never really did either. Until at least he got a little older and Maria and Liz would drag him out. Birthday parties and gifts were always about having the appropriate reaction and being grateful enough. So, Alex is letting him take the reins. He offers to help, but Michael can’t bear for Alex to witness how under-prepared he is, so he tells him he wants it to be a surprise for him and River.

He throws his dishes in the sink and grips the back of Alex’s neck as he makes his way over to the couch. He sits back against the cushions and sighs. “I just want it to be nice for him.” 

Alex nods and groans. Michael shamelessly takes in the enticing arch of his back as he hooks his hands around his foot and pulls. “It will be. Trust me,” Alex says, his voice sounds pulled thin as he stretches. “If he is spending time with his Papa, he is one happy kid. You’re the best dad. One lowkey birthday won’t change that.”

Michael chuckles, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Alex, come on. _You_ are his dad. I’m just the dude that makes dinner and gives him a bath on Tuesday nights.” 

Michael has seen the way Alex’s pupils dilate when he is in the throes of pleasure. The crinkle around his eyes when someone makes him really, truly laugh. He has seen happy tears, distraught ones, frustrated whines, and has heard Alex’s sobs of rage. The different twists of his mouth when he thinks someone is painfully stupid and the quirks of it when a child or animal is painfully cute. A sleek tilt of the head when he is ten steps ahead and pretending to be working you out. His loving, small smile after he kisses and smells the top of River’s head. That’s Michael’s favorite. 

He knows all of Alex’s looks. He has them cataloged all in order in his recesses of his mind. He shuffles through them from time to time.

He doesn’t have words for the look Alex is giving him now. 

He didn’t think they had any more hidden faces from one another. And yet, here it was. Alex wearing a mask Michael had never seen before. 

He hopes he never sees it again. 

“Look, I never said I wanted—”

“Stop speaking.” 

Michael watches the rise and fall of his chest. Alex must have finished counting to ten, because he is suddenly scooting towards his crutch propped against the couch. Michael starts to float it towards him and Alex snarls. Michael drops it lightly back down to the floor. Alex grabs his crutch. He wrenches himself upright with a mighty, painful looking heave. He snatches his water bottle and tablet from the kitchen counter. Michael listens to the crutch slowly thump over over the short distance of the hall floor to River’s room, then the creaky wood, and the click of the door closing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as the great seminal 2000s hip-hop group jagged edge once asked, "where the party at?" it's in the forthcoming chapters!


	2. Chapter 2

Michael thought it was a compliment. That Alex was the real dad here. It was praise and the truth. The best kind. 

Alex doesn’t look up when he walks in an hour or so later. He is curled up on the rocking chair in the corner of River’s room. The light from his tablet illuminates his face, his nose pressed close to the screen. 

Michael swallows. He moves slowly, purposefully, and plucks River out of bed. His mouse lets out a wail and curls his fingers into fists atop Michael’s shirt. 

“Come on,” he whispers, rocking River in his arms as he settles back to sleep. “You can’t sleep in that chair.”

Alex flips his tablet closed and places it in the side pocket of the rocking chair. He braces himself carefully and lifts himself to stand. 

He is trying to maintain a soft expression as he bends and hops to keep River quiet. 

Alex runs his knuckles along River’s cheek, flush from sleep and soft. He brushes his fingers through Michael’s hair. “If he gets off of his schedule, you’re dealing with it.”

He smirks and heads towards their bed. He throws over his shoulder: “That’s my line.” 

Their bedroom is Michael’s favorite room he has ever been in. They can’t paint it because it is University property, but they have made it their own. There are maps, blueprints, and concert fliers covering the walls. Michael has notebooks filled with equations piled on their small table. Alex’s library books and various chargers line the window sills. They keep their guitars in the closet but take them out often. Their bed frame and chest of drawers are a dark oak. They were passed down to Alex from his grandmother. The only bit of furniture he has kept and dragged everywhere with him.

There is the abandoned bassinet in the corner that they have yet to rehome. Their bed is flush with the wall in the upper left corner of the room. Attached to the open side, running to the adjoining wall, is a small play pen of Michael’s own creation. A safe place to put River to keep sleeping or play in the mornings so Alex can do what he needs to and not worry. 

Alex follows behind them with his head hung low. He goes straight through to the bathroom. Michael hears him turn the sink on. He hears Alex puttering around, performing his nightly ritual. A soothing sound. He thinks of Roswell and how Isobel had once called Alex her soul twin diva. Their quips and routines. 

Michael settles into his spot against the wall with River in the center. He just watches him breath, his cheeks puffing out, his nostrils flaring. Alex emerges from the bathroom, parts of his neck still wet from his washing. He sits on the edge of the bed, picks River up and then lays with him on the bed facing the door, with his back to Michael. 

Michael scratches his shoulders lightly, just the way he knows Alex likes it. He says that he is sorry to have upset him, his mouth moving against the base of Alex’s neck.

All of their bodies had changed over the years. Isobel is bonier. Her elbows and cheeks are sharp points. Skirts she had for years conform to her body still, but lay in different ways. Michael had bulked up from the clean three squares he has every day, the running, and the walking to and from work. Alex is softer in some places, under the chin and around his middle. His arms are as taut and strong as ever from the crutch and lifting River umpteen times a day. To Michael, he had never been more desirable. Everyday he gets to take in the feast that is Alex's being.

River is awake and cranky now. Alex rolls over to look at Michael and hands River over to him. “He isn’t a toy. I’m sorry.” 

River doesn’t cease his unhappy whimpers into Michael’s collarbone until Alex offers him a finger to squeeze. 

“You didn’t upset me. I’m mad at myself.” Michael pulls back, squinting and grunting. Alex has his eyes tightly shut. “I don’t know what to do differently. Do you want to quit school? Move back to Roswell? Is that what you want?”

It really isn’t. Michael likes it here. He likes school. He likes their life even though he feels like he sucks at it. 

Michael sits up, his back against the wall. He rubs at the base of River’s head until he soothes himself. 

“I’ll do anything you want,” Alex’s voice has a desperate edge. It reminds him too much, far too much of the first night all three of them were together. Michael shushes him, as well. Naturally, Alex persists.  “What do I need to do make you believe—”

“It’s—it’s my problem.”

The blankets rustle as Alex pulls himself up to sit next to him. Michael leans heavily against his side, dropping his head onto Alex’s shoulder. 

“I thought you were as happy as I was and it just... sucks. You’re breaking my heart, Michael.” 

Happy doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels. He tries to say as much, what comes out instead is: “I don’t deserve—I’m not ready yet. I burned him.”

Alex scoffs. He then clears his throat and rests his head against the top of Michael’s.

“You did not  _ burn _ him. Look at me. You made a rookie mistake which we can mostly blame on your freaky body temperature and gave him milk that was too hot. Nine months ago.” Alex is wearing a consternated expression before he says, “Remember when I dropped him?”

Michael jerks himself upright, knocking Alex’s chin back with the crown of his skull. “No. You—”

“I dropped him and he could have hit his head and then what?” The shrug Alex gives him is helpless and sad. “One mistake and I don’t—I don’t get to be his dad anymore?” His voice cracks a little, an unfamiliar sound to Michael’s ears. Even at his most vulnerable, Alex usually keeps to an even tread. 

“Your leg gave out.” 

Beyond that Alex set himself back nearly a full year in physical therapy and practically busted his prosthetic twisting as he went down. It was a more controlled, calculated fall then a drop. 

Alex’s eyes are red-rimmed and bulging. “I think about it every time I pick him up. No matter how happy I am at the moment, or how steady I feel, I think about it.” Alex’s mouth twists into a grimace. “And I think about how my dad helped to kill his mother.” 

“We don’t know that she—”

Alex glares, but spares Michael the lecture. They both know the more River grows, the more he looks like Michael, like Nora. His mother’s features are welcome. Michael’s, however, he hasn’t quite worked out yet how Alex can bear it. The risk of his Michael’s blood. But, it’s no matter now. Done is done. If River’s mother wasn’t Nora, she was still someone. Still someone that is long gone. 

“We do not know that for sure.”

“Yes, we do. I think about how when he finds that out, he may not want me to be his dad anymore. About how I have to accept that. And about how that and some many other reasons are why he needs you. He needs you to be his father. He doesn’t need me, Michael. That’s okay. But, you have to work through this for him.”

Alex might as well be gutting himself in their bed, bleeding out onto the sheets and smiling, for the way Michael feels. 

“River’s not me,” he implores with a hard edge, almost willing himself to believe it. 

Alex looks down at the sleeping child and then up at Michael’s face. He smiles brightly then. The shift in mood shakes Michael. He points to Michael’s nose and then River’s. Then their skin, their hair, their eyes. “He’s your little clone.”

“No, I mean he—he ain’t gonna be angry like me. Like I was. I hope.” He starts in about how don’t they think based off of Alex’s translations that Michael grandfather or uncle or someone in his line was a bloodthirsty general. “So, by that logic, I am—Hell, baby boy here is—”

“Oh, do not even go there.” 

Michael barks out a laugh, startling River awake and lets out a displeased wail. Alex glares even harder. 

Alex pets at their son’s head to quiet him. His little body flops over towards him soon after. Alex takes him out of Michael’s arms gently, kissing his forehead and rocking him back and forth. 

Alex is still glaring. 

Michael maneuvers himself until Alex is resting against his chest and he has his arms around both of them. 

“It is not the same thing at all,” Alex affirms as he settles back against him. 

Michael chuckles again. Alex pushes back against him lightly and in warning. Michael just smiles, kissing along the man’s tan neck until he reaches his temple. “Alex, baby, my darlin’, stubborn ass mule, love of my life. Love of my  _ lives _ . It is pretty fucking close to being exactly the same. So, if you can’t be a dad because your dad, then what the fuck does that mean for me?” 

“So, we’re both hypocrites? That’s your play. You are already a dad. You take care of Isobel. You’re so good at it. You listen to the annoying, privileged twenty four year olds in your class. You care about them. You do it without even thinking about it. That’s how  _ good  _ you are.” 

He remembers what Katherine, his hardass shrink who pulled him back from the brink as much as he did himself. He remembers what she taught him. “Thank you. Back atcha.”

Alex snorts and tells him he wasn’t fishing. 

Michael is offended. “I know that. I know that, Alex. You would never do that. You’re a fighter. You have mercy. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. All through you, it’s—” 

Alex tells him to stop. 

“What? You get to tell me but, I don’t get to tell you how fuckin’--how fuckin’ extraordinary you are?” 

“Stop.”

“I mean it, you—”

“Michael, stop it.” Alex’s voice is flat when he speaks. He readies himself for bed, settling River back down between them. 

As they begin to doze, Alex suggests that he plan a “Michael and River” day once a month. Michael says he will think about it. He tells Alex that he has to work on feeling inadequate and that Alex has to stop feeling like he is on borrowed time. 

“I don’t know if I can do that. Stop feeling that way, I mean.” 

“Well, we don’t get a choice. We  _ both  _ have to try really hard for him. For his birthday.” 

* * *

Alex doesn’t mention the party again after that night. 

River’s birthday is tomorrow. Kyle and Isobel arrive from Roswell late today. Liz, Rosa, and Max facetime in and sing a preemptive happy birthday to River before breakfast. Alex has taken River to the campus medical center to get his round of one year vaccines. Poor kid has to get stuck three times for diseases he likely has zero chance of ever contracting. Alex explained that they had no choice if they wanted to stay in their university apartment. River had to be up to date with his vaccinations. It is non-negotiable. There is just no way around it unless they want to blackmail the campus doctor they’ve been assigned to. 

He also said he had “absolutely zero fucking interest” in being lumped in with the anti-vax crowd. 

But, Michael just can’t bear to watch it. Weighing, measuring, checking his temperature. Michael can handle that. But, watching River get stuck with a needle and not understand why? He can’t do it. So he stays behind. 

He asked Alex a few days ago how Alex could take him to the doctor with such confidence. He watches the doc like a hawk and never flinches. He has a good rapport with Dr. Dubois. 

This is the same man that started crying when Isobel tried to get River’s footprints. She took River by the ankle on Boxing Day, rigidly put his left foot into the malleable clay and held his foot flat. River squirmed and howled, kicked his legs out in protest. Alex was ashen, sounded so naive and unguarded in the way it sometimes gets when it is just himself, Michael, and Isobel. ‘He doesn’t like it,’ he said, rushed to the kitchen to wet a paper towel and clean the residue off River’s sole. 

Alex told him that he can handle this one as long as Michael handles swimming lessons. 

There is a knock on the door as Michael puts the finishing touches on his list. He reckons he has everything he needs: food, theme, drums, presents, games for older kids, cake, small pool for micro ball pit. He slips the old receipt he is keeping the list into his back pocket and opens the door with the chain lock still on. 

“Beth. It’s just me here today, so—”

“Mr. Guerin, may I come in?”

He takes in the graduate housing director’s appearance. She has a clipboard gripped tight her finely manicured hands. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, but she wears an off-yellow power suit that clashes with her skin tone. She looks official today. She looks official and Michael has mess spread over every surface. “I didn’t know we had a check-in scheduled?” 

“We didn’t. This is just a visit.” Her smile is pleasant, but strained. She has cold eyes and has never really taken a liking to Michael. “Mr. Guerin, I’ll cut to it, we have to apply for the next round of funding and I would like to discuss your family and their willingness to be involved in the process.” 

Michael smirks at that and slams the door closed. He unhinges the chain and opens the door back up to find Beth’s affronted face. He gestures for her to come in and she primarily steps over the threshold. “Ah. It’s grant time and you need plenty of photos of your resident queer, orphan, reformed convict, vet, disabled, interracial couple that just so happens to have a really pretty, photogenic baby?”

She crosses her arms and purses her lips. She is reminiscent of a young Isobel in a way that makes Michael feel a little warm towards her. “Actually, we’ve found that all three of you are all very photogenic.” 

“Hey,” he says softly and waits until Beth visibly unclenches. He reaches out to touch her forearm, but decides against it. “I’m all for it.” Michael is more than happy to be a means to an end if it will keep River and Alex eating well. “I just gotta check with the mister.” 

“Well, as he knows, if he has any questions, he can email me.” 

“Oh, he will.” 

He sees Beth to the elevator, making small talk about her cousins and his skills on the basketball court. When the doors ding open, they are met with a grumpy looking Alex and screaming, red-faced River. Beth and Alex switch places and she waves goodbye. River cries out for Michael and he takes his son into his arms. He pecks at the band-aid on his chubby arm. Alex mumbles and huffs about how his kisses and hugs are good enough apparently. 

Alex grins for their whole walk back down the hall, though. 

* * *

Party day, as he had dubbed it in his mind, has gotten here quicker than Michael imagined and as he spreads everything out on their small kitchen table, he sees how little he actually has. Tomorrow morning, everyone will be a witness to his shame. Thank fuck Rosa isn’t coming. She would never let him live it down. 

He hears Alex coming out of the bedroom, fresh from the shower. While he checks on River as he sleeps, Michael floats everything back into their small hall closet. He collapses face down onto the table top and groans when Alex walks into the living room. Alex stands behind him, running his hands over Michael’s chest, sensuous and soothing 

“You’ve done such a good job. You’ve worked so hard,” Alex says, his voice rough. His hands move lower, his fingers slipping just under Michael’s waistband. 

“Keep goin’,” Michael urges, covering Alex’s hands with his own. Heat settles into his belly and groin. He presses as close to the man’s chest as he can physically manage. He would thread their toes together if he could. He gives Alex’s jaw a sloppy kiss. “Tell me what yah want.” 

He feels the bob of Alex’s throat against his neck as he swallows nervously. He licks the knob of Michael’s spine. “Such a good job. I want to… I want… what do you want?”

“I want you to wrap your legs around my head,” he blurts. 

He half-expects Alex to laugh. He doesn’t. He just leans down, biting the shell of Michael’s ear. Michael groans and melts when Alex asks if he wants his reward right now. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pointless exposition on my favorite thing: official daddy as fuck michael guerin™ to ring in the new year. 
> 
> party down tomorrow, hopefully.

Michael curses when the doorbell rings for the fourth time. His jaw and arms have a pleasant ache from the previous night’s activities. He had finally fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep. The insistent, irritating buzz echoes in the hall again. He raises his hand and reaches out with his powers to fling open the closet door to reveal the small security system held within. A Ring system with added bells and whistles courtesy of Alex. 

Michael sees Isobel staring directly into the camera on the screen. It is 5am and Isobel is death glaring at him via a security camera with a full face of make-up on and approximately five to six bags hanging from her forearms.

She smirks, raising both eyebrows, and leans on the bell with her shoulder. 

Before he can swing out of bed, Alex groans into his pillow and requests for Michael to tell his sister to fuck off until at least seven.

"I love how when it is a decent time of day she is your best friend, but the minute it is inconvenient, she's back to being ‘my sister.’"

Burrowing deeper into the bed, Alex is smiling and nodding with his eyes still closed. 

His bare feet touch the cold wood floor and he hisses. Quickly adjusting to the temperature change by nature of his alien form, Michael doesn’t bother throwing a shirt on. He hops into the nearest pair of sweats he finds and stomps like a child to the front door. 

Here he thought he could maybe get a nice, stress-reducing run along the Charles in this morning before all hell broke loose. No luck, it seems. He undoes the locks with his mind so that by the time he gets there and he can wrench open the door dramatically and proclaim:  “How did you even fuckin’ get in the building, man.”

Isobel wears a shocked and sullen expression. She rebalances the bags in her arms and sighs. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for so long. I know it sounds crazy, but I was in the 1947 crash in Roswell. I’m an alien. I—”

“Oh, just get the hell in here already.”

Isobel whinges loudly, huffing and flinging her bags onto the couch one by one. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and begins to dress him down for the state of his apartment and his general demeanor. 

“Kyle won't be here for hours because of his pointless MSU meet-up. And he is bringing my emergency outfit change because I left it on the bed," she says, gesturing to her chic jumpsuit. " And another thing, would it kill you to—” 

“Will you shut up? They’re sleepin’. Mouse was really fussy last night, so he was up late. And we were up even later,” he adds while waggling his eyebrows. 

Isobel hunches over, audibly gagging three times. She then flounces over to the counter to sit and dig through her purse.

“You didn’t tell me you were comin’ this early. Just, fuckin’... boundaries, Iz,” he says blearily. He slowly runs both hands down his face and then shakes his body to wake up. “I gotta move the kid.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lower your voice. I gotta—I gotta move the kid. Take a knee for a minute, yeah?” he slurs. 

Isobel huffs, turns her attention to her phone, and waves him off. 

* * *

Michael brushes his teeth and runs some water through his hair. He takes a few deep breaths and tells his reflection that his son—because he has got one of those—will not hate him if his first birthday party isn’t perfect. 

All the blogs say that the party cannot even be perfect. 

And then he says it again. And again. 

And one last time for good measure. 

* * *

River is already awake and waiting for him. Standing up, braced up against the rail in his crib, he blinks slowly up at Michael. His hair is mashed against his face. His dino shirt is rucked up underneath his armpits and his pants are already part of the way down his legs. He does a happy shimmy once Michael is in his line of sight. He smiles up at him, big and wide, with his eyes periodically drooping closed. 

Michael leans over, clicking the monitor off and grabbing wipes, cream, and a fresh diaper. He tosses them and the mat on the floor. He squats down to River’s eye level and grins. River let out a mix of a yawn and a giggle as he rubs at his left eye with a chubby fist. 

River’s nursery is bare-bones, but it really works for them. Alex got a huge Paddington poster for almost nothing and Michael drew him a simplistic chart of the planets and major constellations in the Milky Way galaxy. Greg sent them a mobile that they made for River at the reservation. Alex didn’t get choked up when it arrived in the mailroom, but Michael sure did. They have enough space for Alex to maneuver with his crutches and enough bright colors to engage River’s mind. They found the rocking chair abandoned in an alley. Michael sanded it, took it apart, and put it back together so it sits lower to the ground. River will never want for puzzles or stuffed animals as long as Isobel and Liz are breathing. Michael is most proud of the discovery tree he crafted for him. Alex has taken and shared about one hundred videos of River playing with it. Michael had to get special permission from the head of Student Relations to unlock the Hobby Shop at night. He spent hours on the spinning gears and propellers, ensuring that the doors opened easily, but closed slowly and that the flowers at the bottom spring back endlessly. He knew that River would want to repeat that motion over and over again. He paid a kid from BU a very fair price to paint on the animals and the leaves. It even folds down, so they could take it somewhere if they wanted. River squealed when he saw it for the first time. He did this happy bounce on his rump across the floor to it. It is pretty fuckin’ good if Michael does say so himself. 

“You’re waking up smilin’. That’s a good thing. You look like you had a real good sleep. You wanna go cuddle in bed with Daddy?” River whines at the mention of bed and his father. He is reaching and grousing for Michael to pick him up. “I know you do, Mouse. I know it. Let me change yah quick and then will go, okay?”

He sits on the floor, a haphazard version of their morning routine. He murmurs to his son, “I’m gonna take your pajama bottoms the rest of the way off.” 

River assists as he happily kicks out his legs to relieve his feet from where they usually get stuck in the pant leg. 

“Okay, buddy. I’ve gotta take the diaper off and clean yah, okay?” 

He talks his son through the process as he does every time. It was a habit of Alex’s that he picked up very early on. (“I’m going to change your clothes now because you spilled a bit of your food.” “We have to wash your back, okay?” “Now, Auntie Rosa has to hold you while I do this because I can’t put you down on the floor here.”) It wasn’t until Liz pointed it out that they were doing it that he took to Google and found out that they were a little odd. 

He uses his TK to throw the dirtied diaper in the trash. River watches with rapt fascination, as he does every time Michael uses some form of his powers that are flashy. He wonders what powers River will have. He can’t wait to help him with them, make sure he has a safe and good association with them. He is also horrified at the prospect of River having abilities and all that bad that comes along with that in the human world. He imagines it is akin to the feeling of excitement and dread that humans have when they teach their children how to drive.

Michael is looking forward to and wishing he could also stop time envisioning that, as well. He has a hard enough time driving River places without imagining every worst-case scenario. He is supposed to let his little mouse, his precious little nugget, his tiny angel, operate a car alone? 

But, also, doing doughnuts in a parking lot is going to be so fun. Alex will be so mad. 

River is sleepily shifting on his back. His eyelids blinked close every couple of seconds. He pulls his shirt back up and slaps his stomach. Michael smiles and pulls it back down. River fusses and does it again. 

“Oh, you want tummy kisses?” 

River giggles and shimmies. His hair falling in short, ringlets against the carpet. Michael reckons Alex will never cut their son’s hair until he is old enough to ask for it. Michael leans down, kissing his soft belly and lightly tickling his sides. He continues saying good morning to his son for a few moments before River grabs his pants from their place on the floor and throws them across the room. 

“Hey, I need those. No throwing, okay?” 

River just rocks back and forth on the floor. “Paw paw. Paw paw paw.”

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m thinking we put the pants back on, yeah?” River whines as Michael pulls the soft pants back over his legs. “Who am I?”

“Papa!”

“That’s right,” Michael grins. He stands and bends to lift River into his arms with a

laugh. He slowly sways River to and fro in his arms as he walks over to his and Alex’s room. All the while speaking lowly in River’s ear. “Love you. You sure are smart. And you’re one today. Can you believe that? Happy birthday, Mouse. I hope today is fun for you. Love you, love you. Love you to wherever the hell I’m from and back a million times.”

“Lub you!” River crows back and jams his pointer finger as far as he can into Michael's cheek. 

Alex is yawning and scratching his chest when Michael and River wander in. Their son lets out a happy noise. Alex groans and holds his arms open. He crankily opens one eye, “S’wrong.”

“What?”

Alex flaps both hands in his direction and huffs. “You’re so sexy.”

Michael looks down at himself and frowns. His hair is getting a little longer than he likes, he hasn’t showered or shaved yet. His bare chest is hairy all the way down to the band of his sweatpants that are a size too small. River is gnawing and drooling on his shoulder. 

Shrugging, he lays River down onto Alex’s chest. He can’t help but watch Alex sleepily scoot closer to the wall, placing the even sleepier baby on his back on the mattress, but still tucked close to Alex’s body. 

Michael plucks a t-shirt out of the laundry basket. Calling it good enough after one deep sniff, he pulls the shirt over his head and then is struck dumb. He stands in the middle of his own bedroom, staring at his family like a dumbass. He usually waits until the last possible minute to leave. So weekday mornings, he rushes in, dumps River on the bed, and kisses them both before he jogs out of the door. 

Painfully quiet and barely in tune, Alex is singing Happy Birthday. He just hums a few lines and unconsciously—nearly asleep himself—rubs River’s belly. 

Alex continues tiredly murmuring nonsense and humming. His voice low and sweet in a way that Michael wishes he could bottle:

“You wanna go back to sleep, sweetheart? Are you sleepy? I love you. Happy birthday. You’re getting so big,” Alex punctuates every few sentences with yawns or a grunt as he moves to get more comfortable. “Oh, I love you. Love love you. And Papa loves you so much that it makes him a little silly. You’re both—hmmmm—you’re both silly. ”

Michael tries not to lose himself in it; how his whole universe can take the shape of a man and a little boy, snuggled in close, sleeping on a ratty full size bed. 

His body is moving before his conscious mind picks up on it. 

He presses his nose into Alex’s sleep-cool neck, smelling of dried sweat and remnants of his bergamot cologne. Alex sighs, grabbing the hand closest to him and tucking it around his middle. Michael squeezes him tighter and chuckles when River immediately starts fussing. Alex quickly goes back to making circles with his fingertips on River’s stomach. River quiets just as quickly as he roused. He makes a smacking sound with his lips several times before he falls back into a deep sleep. 

“Don’t go,” Alex whines slowly. He uses his free hand to reach behind himself and grab Michael by the back of the neck. He shifts and pulls until Michael is half on top of him. Michael reminds him that Isobel is here. He just makes a whining noise again and loosens his grip. He always gets kind of bratty when he is sleepy. He tells him that he has to get ready for the party. Alex just grunts and Michael can't see him do it, but he knows Alex rolled his eyes. Michael smiles into his shoulder, places a final kiss there and slowly as not to jostle them, rises out of bed. 

“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” Michael tsks, adjusting his clothes and signs. “Figured you’d wanna rest. Didn’t I turn you out real good last night?” 

Alex goes to whack him playfully, but he just misses as Michael jumps towards the door. 

He chuckles all the way into the kitchen.

Isobel is still perched on the counter, pouting into her compact. Her long flowing hair is now tied in a knot on top of her head. Walking past her and flicking her nose, she tells him that she took a picture of their drawing covered fridge as if he would care. Isobel says something about boundaries with a mocking undercurrent, which Michael ignores in favor of turning the coffee pot on. Yawning as he puts a tupperware container of cooked oatmeal and a banana out on the counter for River and two pill bottles and a small bowl with almonds for Alex. 

She snaps the pallet shut and smirks, sliding off the cracked slate countertop gracefully. “Aren’t you a good little housewife?”

Michael rolls his eyes. He opens the cabinet in front of him, takes out a bottle that he fills with premade formula and a few drops of liquid B12. He finds Isobel is still smiling at him.

“Problem?” 

“No, you have a little system. It’s cute.”

“It’s necessary for the both of them.”

“I know that,” Isobel says briskly before catching herself. “Necessary  _ and  _ cute. If Tik Tok were still a thing and I could convince Alex to make one, you would be viral is all I am saying.”

“Sometimes I swear you don’t speak actual fucking words.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Michael sends up a silent prayer to a God he doesn’t believe it. He opens the fridge to count the cupcakes again and make sure he really did get everything for the party. 

“You know,” Isobel implores and then sings off-key and without a trace of rhythm: “That’s just my baby daddy, that’s just my baby dad.”

“Don’t be gross, Iz,” Michael cringes as he slams the fridge door closed. 

“What?!” Befuddled and insulted, Isobel appeals to her non-existent peanut gallery to back up with her arms akimbo and her legs crossed: “Explain to me how that is gross?!” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> details regarding the ablest language can be found in the end notes

Michael isn’t 100% sure how he and Isobel ended up on the floor. They are lying head to head, looking at the crack in the ceiling. Isobel has them both in the position for constructive rest. To create supine spines. They lay with their hands cupped behind their necks and their knees bent relative to their hips. Michael finds it relaxes his whole body. 

He has to remember to tell people his work-study students about this. They are always wound up so tight. 

It’s been nearly a month since they have been able to really talk. They prattle and bicker on the floor for nearly two hours. Isobel has five new employees and her event planning firm is expanding into Texas. She is a dating machine, trading in for a new person every few weeks. 

But, Michael asks about the flight in with Kyle, she blushes and then flinches ever so slightly. An involuntary quirk of the eyebrow and a jolt in her legs like a startled animal. 

Michael tells her that his lab job is probably ending in December, but he is TAing in the spring and has a paid internship at a mechanical engineering firm lined up. Mouse is good. Alex is feeling and doing a lot better. 

Still flustered, Isobel snaps and, again, tells Michael that she knows that. She then closes her eyes, signaling her dismissal of him. Quickly, like when they were children, they both doze off next to each other, holding hands and frowning. 

* * *

Michael rouses violently. Lurching upright with his hand flying out to his sides, finding empty space. He seconds away from screaming for Alex when he orients himself. He pats at his sides again, still not finding River there. Centering himself, he repeats his mantras and reminds himself that he is in his home. That it is his son’s birthday, he has been given his one-year booster shots, and no one has them strapped to an exam room table. Their baby is in the other room as safe as he could ever be in a sanctuary of fleece blankets, gathered and shielded in Alex’s strong arms. His only love is alive. He, his child, and his siblings were not government-sanctioned experiments. He allows himself one quiet sob and a pain-ridden moan before rubbing at his eyes roughly, colors appearing behind his eyelids. 

Isobel is sitting at the kitchen table, wrapping her gifts for River in colored newspapers because Alex is ethically against wrapping paper. He is thankful she listened. Michael has heard that particular rant too many times. She side-eyes him, seemingly biting a question right off her tongue as he plops down next to her at the table and takes up the scissors. 

Focusing on the task at hand, Michael tries to divert all of the adrenaline pulsing through him to River’s party. Even a few months ago, Michael would have torn in there, waking them both up and likely upsetting at least one of them. He wishes they were awake or sleeping out here on the couch. 

Music quietly floats out from their bedroom, as if Alex could sense in his sleep that Michael needed him. It’s a pop-laden playlist, composed of songs River likes from daycare or ones he squeals when he hears it in the grocery store. River’s baby babble cuts right through the noise. But, Alex’s low timbre is warped by the thin walls between them and his toothbrush, “I wanna cut to the feeling, oh, yeah.” 

Isobel ran a painted blood red nail daintily down the back of the package, sealing it and leaving a faint red mark in her wake. “He really is feeling better,” she comments without looking up from her work curling ribbon. 

“Yeah,” Michael says sheepishly, running his hands through his hair. “He is. They both are.”

“Are they still having issues, you know, uh,” Isobel mimes ripping what Michael imagines are two industrial strength magnets apart. “When I asked last time, Alex got all pissy.” 

River isn’t nearly as attached anymore. But, for a while, it was pretty bad. For the first week at daycare, he was only meant to be there on Tuesday and Thursday when Alex was working. River lasted a little under an hour. He just screamed. The girls running the place said he wasn’t even crying. He was just _screaming_ . 

Compared to other children in the daycare, River is an “easy” kid. He is a placid, sweet, affectionate, quiet little boy.

He is and he is and he is and then, without much warning, every once and a while, he is _not._

Alex closing his eyes and rocking River back and forth is only endearing five or so times before it loses its charm for normal people. Michael can handle tantrums. But these fits are awful. He just hurts all over for his poor baby because beyond over-stimulation, there doesn’t appear to be any logic or sense to them. How can Michael fix it if he doesn’t know the problem? 

It still happens. Sometimes it even happens with all three of them just hanging out in the apartment. 

Alex and River emerge still in their sleeping clothes with bedhead and clean teeth. Like a man in a trance, Michael trots after them into the kitchen. Alex pulls him by his shirt into the alcove where the oven is, partially shielding them from the dining/living room where Isobel is sitting at their table, tapping a manicured nail against the wood. 

With a huff, Michael is dragged into Alex’s side. He places a hand on River’s back. The child mewls against his daddy’s shoulder and grins at his papa, showing off his incoming baby teeth. 

“River here was just telling me that he is one today and that you organized a whole party for him. He said he’s excited, you’re the best Papa in the whole universe, and that you should kiss Daddy.”

Michael laughs lowly, cradles Alex’s jaw in his hands, and kisses him full, slow, and deep. 

In between softly kissing Michael’s cheek, jaw, and temple, Alex whispers heatedly into his ear, “How lucky am I? He can move stuff with his mind, cut fruit in the shape of animal paws, and turn me out so good. I’m a really lucky guy.” 

Taking in Alex’s handsome face, his hooded eyes, Michael pants, “Yeah, real lucky guy.” 

He captures his partner’s mouth with his own again, opening up this time and quickly, almost sheepishly sliding his tongue in to tease the seam of his plush, sweet lips. 

Isobel loudly clears her throat. “I can see just enough of you to know what you are doing. You are making out while holding a baby, Alexander. You’re disgusting.”

Alex flips her off and kisses Michael again, close-mouthed and tender. 

Isobel laughs. River’s face looks alarmed and then excited. He starts squirming and clapping. Alex sets him down. Immediately, Michael’s hand is a hairsbreadth from the child’s back. Toddling in with his father behind him, steering him around the counter and the chairs. River’s arms flail at his sides, his stride is big and clumsy. He falls on his rump in his haste to get to her and begins manically crawling. 

Watching from the counter, Alex grins. Isobel bounces River up and down while Michael talks her through all the ways he has grown. Alex spoons out the oatmeal and cuts the banana into manageable pieces. He dry swallows his pills and joins them at the table, bowls in hand. 

“Okay, Auntie Izzy is wearing a Marc Jacobs jumpsuit.” She hands him off to Michael who buckles him into the highchair. She smiles into her coffee. “I’m surprised he came to me.”

Michael shrugs and locks the tray into place. River’s tiny sock-covered feet dangle from the seat, kicking playfully at the air. 

Alex, mid-way to handing River a spoon, falters. “Why wouldn’t he?” 

“Well, you know,” Isobel says, waving her hand at the space in between the two of them. “He doesn’t like to be apart from you.”

“He’s not,” Alex says tightly before chuckling with an uneasy edge. “I’m right here.” 

The last about ten or so minutes of polite conversation before Isobel begins voicing her concerns. She cringes at River wailing a quarter of the way through his meal. 

Alex wipes his hands clean and smiles gently, “No oatmeal today, lovey? That’s okay. You ate two whole bites. Let me get your bottle.”

Michael draws Alex in for a peck on the lips as he maneuvers around the table. “I already put the B12 in.”

“So,” Isobel drawls. “He is still doing that.”

“Doing what exactly?” Alex asks primly, shaking the bottle and returning to the table. He is handing River his bottle when Isobel starts up again. 

“Yeah, what, Iz?”

“The mess thing. The screaming thing,” she elaborates. She ticks off on her fingers how River is verbally delayed, still struggles with eye contact apart from his parents, and hates mess. 

Michael hardens himself to stop, feeling all for the world that Isobel just backhanded Alex and himself for good measure. 

Alex barks out that River is not, in fact, verbally or socially delayed. He reiterates is not worried, that he is absolutely no reason to be because he has a lovely, healthy child. He has been reading neuro-med journals in his spare time and he has found that all the research says that forcing River to do things he has this reaction to is not helpful at all. 

“Honey, he is,” Isobel insists. She slides a graceful hand across the table to grasp Alex’s. “Take a deep breath.”

Alex is so upset, he is nearly spitting. He yanks his hand out of hers. “Don’t patronize me about my son. And even if that all were true, what in the actual _fuck_ does—” 

Michael startles at the realization that River is whimpering and whining. Looking directly at Alex with his eyes like saucers, wet and glistening. His lower lip is stuck out, he baby babbles under his breath. He scrambles out of his seat to pick River up and comfort him. Even as Michael takes him in his arms and River lays against his chest, their son still weeps. Reaching out to Alex with both hands and letting confused little whines. 

The rotten part of him wants to look at Isobel and point to this as an example of how ‘socially aware’ River is. 

Alex’s face has all but crumbled in on itself. He runs a shaky hand through his hand and lets out a low whine. “Oh, fuck. Michael, look what I—”

“It’s fine. You’re fine,” Michael says firmly as he moves his body in every which way he can think of, hoping to find a position that River likes. “Tell him, Alex. Tell him that Daddy is fine.” 

Alex gives River a watery smile and tells him everything is alright. Michael passes their son over to Alex who begins humming. 

The moment River opens his mouth, Michael can feel the energy shift in the room. He does what he has done so many times before, and reaches out with his mind and catches. He floats to him, like a pebble in the air, and with one forceful breath, he takes that speck of energy and forms a bubble around Alex and River. It mutes River sonic boom screeching just enough to make it bearable. 

“What the fuck, Michael? What the fuck?” Isobel frantically whispers, clawing at her arms and then covering her ears. 

His eyes never leaving River’s face, he explains, “I am using the combined energy of his scream and my powers to create a little soundproof shield around him.”

River inhales deeply and again, lets out a walloping shout. 

“You can do that?”

“Clearly, I can and I need to concentrate.” 

Focusing back on Alex and River, Michael closes his eyes and lets Alex’s voice wash over him. He pushes every good, calm feeling he can manage River’s way. 

“Get grounded. Get grounded, lovey,” Alex whispers, a calm request, not a plea. River has a terrible, frightened look on his face as he screams into the center of Alex’s chest again, a little quieter this time. “Come on, my baby. I know you are having a hard time. Oh, I know you are having such a hard time.”

Rocking him side to side, Alex makes a low, steady sound, as if giving River a level to emulate. “There you go. There you go, River.” Rationally, River can’t understand. All he is hearing is his daddy’s voice and the whoosh of air passes his ears, but Alex always keeps on. “Oh, baby. Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Daddy is so sorry.”

River lets out once last loud cry before collapses back in Alex’s arms. Michael falls into a fetal position on the floor, raising a hand to float the baby bottle back in Alex’s scrambling hand and then to open the upper cabinet and get himself some acetone. 

“Are you okay, love?” Alex sounds frantic.

Michael tries to lift his head, but can’t. Isobel rubs his back as he chugs down half a bottle of his watered-down acetone. He finally gives his husband a thumbs up. Alex lets out a sigh of relief. 

Isobel gives him a determined look before helping him to the table. He pulls a chair over to where Alex is seated, humming and feeding River. 

River gurgles happily around the nipple of the bottle, an episode long forgotten to him when Michael presses close to breathe in his son’s soft skin. 

“That’s right, you’re all good, Mouse,” he says, more reassuring the adults than River. “Before you start, you didn’t scare him. You know how he gets. He can’t help it. It’s an alien thing, not a bad-dad Alex thing.” 

Alex turns into his hold, laying his forehead against Michael’s temple. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I’m fine and I’m happy to do it. It’s my job.”

“Still,” Alex insists before kissing him. 

“Still, nothin’,” Michael growls against his mouth. 

Alex finishes feeding River and sets him down on the floor to play. River especially likes pulling all of his toys out from their various hiding places and then putting them all back in the little toy chest Michael built. 

Alex lays his hands out on the table top and flexes his hands. He looks anywhere and everywhere but Isobel. He tells them he should take River on his walk while they finish setting up. He doesn’t want to upset River’s routine and he owes Greg a phone call anyway. 

* * *

While River and Alex are on their daily walk, Michael and Isobel hang decorations. Trying to make the best of shit situation, Michael plays nice and shows her the small ball pit he bought and put together. He has filled it up half-way and put a dozen or so soft toys he got at the dollar store around the sides. She nods in approval, returns to her collection of bags, and clears her throat. 

Isobel is holding out a multi-colored button-up, with peach buttons and swathes of blues and pinks and greens all over it. She tells him that she found it in a boutique in Reno and paid full price because it was ‘festive.’

Michael is affronted. It is as if Isobel doesn’t know him at all. He scoffs and turns back to finish setting up the table with birthday hats and coloring books. 

“I’m not wearing _that_.”

“River will love it and it is his birthday.” She dances in place, shaking in his face. “It goes great with your hair.”

River would love it. He can picture the boy’s gummy smile, can practically hear his delighted shriek, feel him pulling at the buttons and patting all the colors. 

Michael is already pulling his NU sweatshirt over his head. “Fine.” 

As his head pops free, Isobel blurts, “I think I am in love with Kyle. No, I know I am in love with Kyle. I think. Forget I said anything. Shut up.” 

Michael blinks at that before slowly turning and getting the cupcakes out of the fridge.

He boots up his laptop and triple checks that his pizza order went through. Checks that off his list. He moves with the same exacting precision he would on the job to correctly stack the cupcakes to resemble a castle. He places a little Moana figurine he found last minute on top and then checks that off. He looks down his list and what Isobel has already down and crosses off what he deems truly done.

“You’re tense,” Isobel observes, eyeing him fully whilst simultaneously filling a bucket-made-cooler with juice boxes and root beer. 

“I’m tired.”

“You’re pissed at me.”

“I’m focused.” 

Isobel hums. “Is it about Kyle?”

“No, it ain’t about Valenti.”

“Is it about the smash cake?”

“There is no smash cake.”

“What? That’s stupid.”

“My kid doesn’t like gunk on his hands.”

“Well, then what—”

“It is about you and Max thinkin’ you can just dictate to Alex about our son. You think we don’t know what you two think? It is fucking insulting.”

Slamming gift bags onto the coffee table, Isobel frowns, “I don’t like that I suddenly cannot ask after my own nephew.”

“There is a difference between asking and demanding, between talking with Alex about it and talking at him.”

“ _We_ —"

“Are out of goddamn line? ‘Verbally delayed,’ Iz? Don’t think I don’t know who is feeding you this absolute horseshit.” 

Isobel purses her lips, trying not to smile. Gliding over to straighten the ‘Happy Birthday River!’ banner, she muses to herself, “Well, look at Big Bad Daddy.”

“Yeah,” Michael nods, without an ounce of hesitation. “That’s me.” 

Isobel huffs, fluffing pillows and then busting her hands in other ways. Flitting around the room in her silken suit, not a hair out of place, a mirror of Ann. 

The silent treatment makes him feel sick in his heart and they are too old for this. He opens his laptop back up, pulls up Max’s contact info, and clicks the camera. Seconds later, the computer dings and Max’s face takes up the whole screen. He is in civvies, looking relaxed and drinking coffee. He needs a shave. 

Michael is angry just looking at him.

“Hey, where’s the birthday bo—” 

“1000 books before kindergarten? Try 1000 books before 11 months. Between Alex and Deewana at the center, River gets—”

“ _Okay_ , Michael. So, I am guessing Isobel talked you about what I told her to tal—” 

“He can point to colors and shapes when we name them. He is the happiest kid I have ever seen and I don’t care if he has do some stuff differently down the line. Alex and I will help him if he needs it. So, how about you shove that right up your ass?”

Max sighs and looks somewhere behind Michael’s shoulder, “Hi, Iz. Nice visit?”

“Oh, yeah. The best,” Isobel says, winking as she nods her head and gives two thumbs up. 

“There is nothing wrong with him. You think that, just maybe, he is a little off to you because he was stuck in a pod for seventy years? He tries so hard. Picking apart everything he does and he is a helpless baby. It’s not fair.” 

“Okay,” Isobel says, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “So we’re clearly not talking about just River anymore.”

Michael shrugs her off and then asks them both for a little room to breathe for a while in terms of the monitoring. 

Max shakes his head and says that has to know if River is drawing attention to them.

Isobel lets out something that sounds like a strangled scream behind him.

Michael, incredulous and off-balance, asks, “No? Just no?” He is rapidly, desperately blinking back tears. His voice cracks when he confesses, “I thought—I thought out of everyone in the galaxy that you, Max, could understand what River is going through right now.” 

“I just think the earlier we address these things, the less of a burden they will be down the road.”

Suddenly, he is red-hot, seething. Michael’s vision is becoming spotty and his hands are growing numb. “Things? What things? The shit you’ve made into a big deal in your tiny mind? You’re a fuckin’ burden if anyone is.” 

“I may have used the wrong word.”

“Yah think?” 

Isobel and Michael stare at Max staring back at them. The front lock clicks and the door opens. Alex walks in backpack first, moving the stroller across the threshold as gently as possible. 

Lowly, Alex says, “Don’t worry I have my eyes closed and he’s asleep.”

“It’s fine,” Michael snaps. He rubs at his eyes and exhales. Softer this time, he says, “I mean—It’s fine, Alex. We are pretty much done, anyway.” 

“Can I talk to River?” Max asks, his voice patchy and loud in places due to the signal. 

Alex rolls his eyes as Michael turns the laptop in his direction. He sighs before he rolls the stroller around to show River wrapped up in his fall coat, buckled in tight and snoring into his shoulder. 

“Whoa.” Max's lips quiver to form his signature half-smile. “He’s gotten so big."He clears his throat, shaking his head like a dog shaking off water. Michael, for one small moment, feels terrible for not starting the call off nicer. 

“Yes.” Alex’s grin is forced and bitter. “He has grown. Children tend to do that.”

“I know that. I—I just meant that he has grown so much since I have last seen him. He looks great.”

“Of course he does. That’s what he is. He’s great. Good to see you, Max. Michael, can you meet me in our room? I need help choosing an outfit for River.”

This request befuddles Michael because they let River ‘choose’ what he wears unless they were short on time. But, Alex is already halfway down the hall before he can even ask. 

“Sure thing, darlin’,” he shouts over his shoulder just as Alex is shutting River’s bedroom door behind him. 

“That man hates me,” Max says. 

“He does not!” Michael insists. 

“He does,” Isobel says, half-distracted by her phone.

“He does not hate Max.”

“He really does,” Max chuckles good-naturedly.

“ _Totally_ does,” Isobel howls, swinging herself up onto the counter. 

“I mean, you try to take a dude’s baby from him in the dead of night _one time_ and he just can’t let it go.”

Isobel laughs, so does Max. 

They are trying to lighten the mood, but Michael feels cold. He thinks of Alex, freezing and holding his body tensely in the car for three days. His leg hurt for weeks after. Driving through the night to get to Michael. Overpaying to stay in the safest hotels he could find. Figuring it all out on his own, risking more than anything before to just get this child to Michael. Trusting his emotions and his gut—trusting himself solely—for the first time. It was the bravest, best thing Alex has ever done in a long list of chivalrous acts. 

The rest of them have no idea what they went through then. What Alex went through. Is it any wonder that the man spent the first few months here holed up with the baby? The fucking local sheriff threatening to hunt him down and potentially putting this vulnerable child into a system that nearly destroyed Michael? Holding and protecting this tiny, precious, innocent thing knowing at any moment, through no fault of his or the baby’s that they could be exposed, or worse? 

He understood that Max was scared and panicked. He said whatever he could to try and get control of the situation. But, he had been wrong. Why can’t he just look him and Alex in the face and say he was wrong? 

Michael wants his mother. 

“That is not fucking funny. It was not—It just is not funny.”

“Well, excuse me,” Max says, clearly trying not to smile. “For not knowing that maternal instincts would kick in between two separate species in less than 24 hours.”

He sees Isobel cringing in the background at that.

“Maternal instincts, Max?” Michael says, his mouth nothing less than a snarl. 

Max’s smile falls, immediately replaced with a scowl. “Sorry I don’t use the right words at every moment. You’re no saint when he comes to that either. It was a joke, Michael.” 

“Yeah? And you’re a dick. It will never be funny to him, or me, ever. Thanks for the big brother prep talk before a major fuckin’ milestone. Uncle of the Year,” he snipes, slamming the laptop shut on Max’s hurt face. “Asshole.”

“Okay,” Isobel says, her voice measured and teetering towards patronizing as she slides back down onto the floor. “That wasn’t one hundred percent warranted.” 

Michael sighs loudly, tugging on the hem of his new shirt. “I’ll call him and apologize when I am done with that,” he snaps, gesturing emphatically towards River’s room. 

“Such a drama queen,” Isobel lilts and then snaps another playmat down onto the floor. 

* * *

Like clockwork, Alex turns on the monitor the second they are in their room. River is huddled with his stuffed cat, napping deeply in his crib shows on the screen. 

After stripping his own sweatshirt and pants off, Alex pushes Michael until he falls back, ass first, onto the bed. Alex instructs him to stay, telling him that he needs a break from all his hard work. 

“And your siblings,” he adds, sitting down next to him on the bed. He hisses and lets out a harsh gasp as he takes his prosthetic off. Tense, but determined, Alex lays down next to Michael and wraps his legs and arms around him. “You okay?”

Michael pulls him closer, wanting as much of Alex on top of him as possible. “Yeah, I’m just pissed,” he sniffs, scoffing at the tell-tale stinging feeling in his eyes. He clears his throat, sets his jaw, and keeps the tears at bay. “Fuck. You know, the kid has enough to deal with that he doesn’t need this fear-mongering, pseudoscience bullshit.” 

Nuzzling at his left cheek, Alex murmurs endearments and comforting words. “Thank you for defending him. Michael, I love River, so much. I was worried, at first, that I could never love him as much as I love you, but I do. I do, and it’s just—” 

“The same frequency but different sounds?”

“Yes,” Alex sighs, full of relief and wonder. “Yes, yes. That exactly. We make mistakes, but you are doing the best job. Isobel and Max know that they are just being… themselves. And, of course, River will have problems. He is not perfect, no one is. But, also, people should consider that River _is perfect_.” 

Michael chuckles at that and soon Alex is, too. 

“Wait, what the fuck is this shirt, Michael?” Alex barks out a laugh against his neck and then groans. Grabbing at his leg, he hisses again. With an apologetic expression painted onto his face and on every inch of his body language, he sits up. 

“You sure you’re alright?” 

Alex nods tightly, but his stump is red and looks painful. He asks Alex if he wants a massage, but he shakes his head. 

Figuring at this moment, a distraction is better than prying, Michael stretches out on the bed, tucking his hands behind his head. “How was dear ole’ Gregory?”

“He’s doing really well, actually. Teaching himself French. He asked after Isobel.”

“My sister is makin’ suitors out of all these men.”

“Men? What _men_?” Alex rubs at his stump methodically. Reaching out for his lotion they keep on the side table, he says, “He asked if he could give Flint my email address. I told Greg I don’t want him in our house. I don’t think the idea of him around you. I would never be able to trust him around River alone or maybe ever at all. But… Greg says he is different. Like he was when we were little.”

“So, just a run of the mill asshole then?”

“No,” Alex says, letting out a frustrated noise. He tosses the lotion bottle on the floor and flops back onto the bed. He breathes deeply, squeezing his eyes shut. He starts again, raising his amputated leg high and canting his hips towards the ceiling. He grunts, “He was kind of a dork, really. Really into Dragon Ball Z.” He asks Michael to think about it, and if he says no, then it’s no. Alex isn’t even sure he wants contact right now or ever, anyway. Dropping his hips and leg back down, he throws his arm over his eyes, and confesses into the meat of his forearm, “I think I need to ‘sleeve out’ for a while.” 

Michael perks up at that, launching himself off the bed and to the closet. “You want your sleep band one?” Alex grumbles. “Up to you, baby.”

“I want the really good compression one,” Alex finally says. “I guess I should try and sleep a bit more. I was gonna fill out that VA volunteer form, though.” 

He places both the compression sock and the sleep band next to him. “You told me that your new goal was to be able to carry Mouse as much as he wants.”

Adjusting to River’s increasing weight has not been as easy as a transition as Alex would have liked. Michael watches the bob of his throat as he swallows wetly and slides the shrinker on with practiced ease. 

“It is my goal.”

“And?” Michael teases, raising the covers and tucking them around Alex’s body. 

Alex lets out a long-suffering sigh into the pillow under his head. “I have to rest when I need to so I can do that.”

Pride surges through him, Michael kisses Alex on the lips and then the eyelids. Alex does the same to him. Taking Michael’s face in his hands, Alex asks, “Are you sure you're okay to go back out alone. I can lay on the couch if you want. It’s no problem. Really.” 

“I’m okay. I’ll be okay, swear.” 

“You're so good, Michael. The party is gonna be great. You take such good care of us. I meant what I said. River and me? We’re so damn lucky guys.”

He presses a kiss to each palm of Alex’s hands. “It’s you two that take good care’a me.”

* * *

Isobel is waiting for him right outside, she frantically moves from sitting to being on her knees.Michael is having that at and yanks her up to standing by her arms. He takes for the living room and she follows suit. 

“I finished it. I hope that’s okay. I know you wanted to do it yourself, but—”

“No, I love it.” 

And he does. She added a bunch of fake vines to the walls, making the small apartment look even more like a jungle. She made a little banner for his highchair and there are jello molds in the shape of animals that Michael doesn’t remember seeing before. It is better than he and Alex could have done on their own. 

“You should have been a part of it from the start. You’re his aunt.”

Isobel has a ferocious look in her eye when she speaks. The finger she points at her chest is accusing. “Damn straight, I am. And I have been a real shit one all day. And worse sister and even worse best friend. Max is spiraling with you being so far and I can’t speak for him, but for my part: never again. I swear. You were right. I was way out of line.” She scoffs, “Burden? I wanted to throttle him. I think he wants to throttle himself, but I know that is no help right now. I’m just sorry. I fucked up. I’m going to do better. I’m sorry.” 

“Okay,” he whispers, straightening the table cloth. “Thank you.”

Isobel jerks back, eyeing him up and down. With a confused and defensive twist to her mouth, she says, “That’s it?”

“Yeah, tell Alex exactly what you just said to me when he wakes up and that’s it. We want to tell you about him and talk to you about his struggles and when he is kickin’ ass, and—”

“I want that, too,” she pleads. Giving one last look to the door to the room where Alex is, she asks, blue eyes a little teary, “He’ll forgive me before I go back to Roswell, right?”

Michael hugs her. He tells her yes, he will. 

Because it’s her and he is Alex. 

* * *

Though the weather could be better, the party looks pretty good. The first wave of guests from the building are here. The Robertsons brought corn-hole and said that Michael could keep until tomorrow. He sets it up in the corner along with the card table that Isobel covered with bowls of child-safe sliced fruit and gift bags. 

“Alright, so, uh. River and Alex are gonna be out soon and, uh—”

“No shouting,” Isobel shouts, pointing firmly at the adults. “No ‘Happy Birthday!’ No ‘Surprise!’ No clapping.”

Exasperated, Michael turns to the group of children, he estimates median age five. He squats down to their level. “Apart from screamin’, you guys just do whatever the spirit tells you, and, uh, you can start playing now if you want.”

“Mr. Michael, can we play with your Nintendo?” 

He knew he had forgotten to set something up ahead of time. 

Samba and his girlfriend, Neethi, arrive at the same time as Kyle. The doctor makes a beeline for River only to be told he is still getting ready. He rolls his eyes and tosses gift boxes into Michael’s arms and heads for Isobel instead. 

Neethi and Samba offer to help him carry them over to the gift area. Neethi is about five foot even and wears purple head-to-toe. She is an electrician, has a grip like a machine, and immediately begins admiring the decorations. 

“These are so cute. Like, simple and rustic, but also kid gaudy in the best way. I think—Whoa.”

Michael follows her line of sight to see Alex coming into the living room. His hair is styled up and away from his face, he is wearing a form-fitting black sweater and dark jeans. His eyes are tired, but his skin is glowing. River is wearing something that looks like a unicorn threw up all over him. His curls are wild and his yellow tie-dye onesie clashes with his long neon blue socks. It is only when Alex locks eyes with Michael and holds him out for his inspection that he sees written across River’s belly in glitter puff paint is “MY PAPA SAYS I AM ONE-DERFUL!!!” 

Horrifically, terribly, predictably, River looks at the wall of people and shiny things waiting for him and immediately begins to whine and tear up. Alex stops at the head of the room, speaking to River in low tones and pointing to things around the room. He points to Isobel and Kyle and then Michael. He hops River up and down on his hip and tickles his side, showering kisses onto his cheeks. Giggly, but still hiding behind his hands, River squirms until he is let down and crawls for Kyle and the ball pit like a toddler on a mission. 

He watches as Juan, one of the building maintenance crew, shakes Alex’s hand vigorously before dapping him up like he just won the Stanley Cup. On paper, he and Alex could not be more different, but they get on like a house on fire. Juan is a former Marine. Michael swears these 'geek to the military back to geek’ guys can smell it on each other. Juan and Alex would have been able to clock each other as kindred spirits from across a county, Michael is sure of it. 

Grabbing Michael by the sleeve as he tries to beat his son to the ball pit he worked so hard on, Neethi points. She repeats: “Whoa.”

“Taken,” he quips, holding up his left hand and giving her the ring finger. 

“Respect. Nice work locking that down.”

Humans are bizarre. 

* * *

River is bouncing from station to station with glee. He has had about five piggyback rides, is ball pit champion, and scribbled a drawing for all to see. All while he is happily popping in place to the tunes his Daddy so carefully curated for him over the year.

Isobel, who is pacing in place, makes a beeline for Alex once he is through saying his hellos. They stand close, their heads pressed together. Michael watches from the floor where he is crawling after River and one of the girls from across the hall. Isobel is trying to not look upset and is failing. Alex opens his arms to her and she falls right in. He can make out Alex saying, “If you ever pull that shit again, my feelings are going to be so hurt. River needs you to be on his side, Isobel.”

She pinky swears and then seemingly superglues herself to him for the rest of the party. They are happily inseparable. Michael and Kyle are once again acting as the third wheel. 

Throughout the day, the building's families filter in and out. No one stays for more than about twenty minutes and it is working out okay so far. Michael specifically said on the flier that presents were not needed, but about a quarter of people bring them anyway. They are mostly drawings from other kids, or hand-me-downs, for which Michael is more than grateful. Women keep kissing him on the cheek, men keep slapping his back. 

Lupita in 305 brings him a garbage bag filled with 4T clothes. She kisses Michael on both cheeks and he invites her in. She pokes her silk-wrapped head into the apartment. Feeling the wall of humidity that comes from cramming ten or so people into a 650 square foot apartment, shakes her finger, and says, “Oh, honey. I’m good.” 

* * *

Michael gives Aubrey from floor five a slice of cake and pats her on the head. Once she is out of earshot, he turns back to Kyle just in time to catch Alex asking what Michael has been dying to since the doctor stepped foot in their apartment:

“So, are you cheating on my old therapist with my best friend?”

“Uh, _I’m_ your best friend? And no, I would never—I think she is about to dump me, man.” 

Alex frowns and Kyle pouts and shoves his sixth slice of pizza for the day into his gob. 

* * *

River lasts roughly forty-five minutes of people coming in and out before he starts rubbing his eyes and wailing. Alex, who is on the couch with Isobel reading a shy little girl a story, must have a ping in his River radar, because in no time he is cooing and making a move to stand. But Michael tells him to sit back down, that he had it. 

River sees Michael making his way over to him and tries to stand. But, he is so upset and tired that he simply falls over. He lies on the carpet screaming as the other adults politely ignore him and the children around him play. 

Michael looks down at him, cupping his chubby, red face in his hand. He rubs at the thin skin under River’s big, hazel eyes. Brimming with tears, his cheeks crimson as he lets out weaken whimpers. He lies on the carpet crying. 

He sobs out ‘daddy,’ ‘papa,’ ‘no.’ 

Michael picks him and thrashes so aggressively, for a moment, Michael is scared he will drop him. Michael takes him to his room, cradles him for ten minutes or so. He holds him up, trying not to cry at every, “Pa, pa, pa,” that comes from River’s mouth.

Eventually, nothing Michael tries works and he just ends up on the floor next to his son. River has tired himself out and seems to only want to lay on his belly with his face mushed into the carpet. Rubbing his back and making soothing noises, Michael listens to River’s stuttering, hiccupping breaths. 

Kyle enters the room, unannounced. He looks from Michael to River’s tuckered out little frame. “Hey, man. I wanted to check on little dude and also, I kinda wanted to talk to you alone about something. Is now okay?”

Michael scoffs and shrugs. What’s another pile-on? 

Standing awkwardly above the two bodies lying on the floor, spread eagle, Kyle says, “Well, uh, Isobel mentioned on the flight over—” 

Michael cuts him off and asks Kyle what he thinks. “Professionally,” Michael clarifies. 

Kyle sighs and sits on the floor with them. River rouses, beaming at his Uncle Ky. Happy to hand him blocks and cluck his tongue while the two adults talk. 

While taking every block River gives him with extra care, Kyle says, “I think he’s a year old who had a very traumatic entry to this world and then a very exciting boost back to life.”

Michael recounts all the things River can do, the good and the sometimes frustrating. “He says, ‘love you.’” Michael ends with. 

“That is all actually a little above average for a one-year-old.” Kyle tickles River’s belly for good measure. 

“It is?”

“I wouldn’t lie about that,” Kyle answers sincerely. “And if he was verbally delayed, like... okay? A lot of kids are? What if he never develops verbally beyond where he is right now? Okay? You three will figure it out. It’s not a death sentence or an iron weight, it is just different.”

“Yes,” Michael exclaims. “Exactly that. I have been saying that for months and I feel like only Alex was hearin’ me.” 

“Yeah, best to not get Alex started on any form of painting River as less than.”

Michael mock shivers, “I was there for when the cashier said his hair was growing in uneven. Yeah, no one messes with Daddy’s boy.” Michael laughs at the way River perks up at the word and looks around as if expecting Alex to magically appear. “He is just so gone on this kid in a way I never expected. Surprises me all the time. He is—” 

“Oh, I know. I get the pictures. Daily. And you should hear Alex on the phone. What I wanted to say is that—He… he _gushes_ , dude.” Kyle is looking at him, holding him in his sights. “‘Michael did this, Michael said that. Michael made this thing and that thing.’ Michael m-made me a—You built him that playpen thing and he just—you make him so—I approve, for it’s worth. Officially. I still hate your face. Other than that and your body and general personality, I have no complaints. You told me you would take care of him and you have. I approve. Full marks.” 

Kyle coughs and waves his hand nonchalantly as if what he just told Michael was nothing. 

River pokes his thigh, trying to get his attention. He is holding his favorite toy, a pink stuffed cat, up for Michael’s inspection. Michael leans over and gives the doll a loud, smack of a kiss. River sequels and does the same. River’s fair, smooth face is back to its normal hue now. His hazel eyes are clear and bright. He is singing a little nonsense song to himself. 

Michael manages to look up for a split second, but when he sees the open look on Kyle’s face he averts his eyes again.

Kyle plays with River for a few more minutes and then gets up to ‘tend to Isobel.’

“You humble me, doc,” he grumbles bopping River on the nose. 

“Sorry, what?” Kyle asks, his body already half-way out of the room. 

“Kyle, _you humble me_.”

Kyle smiles at him, not a trace of sarcasm or cruelty in it. “The same.”

They are still looking at one another when Samba comes around the corner into the nursery. He looks between the pair of them with an expression marked by consternation. 

“Sorry to interrupt an… intimate moment, but the boss lady is here mate,” he explains slowly, still looking between Michael and Kyle. 

His boss, Dr. Melissa Lockhart, is in fact in his house. The short, but shapely woman of about fifty-five has come with two obscenely large gifts and a dozen farm-themed balloons. During their time in the bedroom, the party had mostly cleared out. Alex will later assure him that it was okay, they were all winding down, anyway. 

Melissa, unsurprisingly in the center of the conversation. She is currently regaling the remaining guests with the state of Michael’s workspace. She tells him his desk area has so many photos of Alex and River that everyone on the team says he looks like a “psychopath.”

“Speaking of,” she declares in her deep Boston accent. She hands him the smaller of the two wrapped packages. “For your psycho display, it’s from all of us in the department.”

Michael has always hated opening gifts in front of people, but Alex nods at him encouragingly. River is sitting on Alex’s lap, gnawing on an elephant cookie as he stares wide-eyed at the cow balloon. 

It’s a benchmark board for River's first year of life. It reads: 

_River Guerin:_

_Est. October 27, 2022_

**Stats:** 22.6 lbs, 31 inches 

I have five teeth 

**Things I love:** DADDY, Papa, pulling books off of the shelves, going on walks, singing, cell phones, puppies, and kitties 

**My favorite book:** Where the Wild Things Are

 **Favorite foods** : strawberries, avocado, noodles, hummus 

**First words:** Papa

 **Things I can say:** NO, yes, Daddy, Papa, kiss, up, kitty, down, please, all done, love you. 

**Favorite song:** Old Town Road 

But, Michael just can’t. He is at his limit for feelings today. Choked up, he shortly thanks his boss and Samba and then hands it to Alex. 

Everyone communes over the board for a while. 

Satisfied, Melissa opens her cell phone and lets the group scroll through an album titled “Super Dad.” Alex, Samba, and Isobel are howling. He knows his office space is a little intense, but he doesn’t think it is _that_ funny. 

When he lifts his head from his elbow, he is beet red. The current photo everyone is cooing over is of Michael holding River in his lab coat. Their faces squished together, both smiling big and wide. 

“Can you email me this one?” Alex and Isobel ask simultaneously. 

Kyle isn’t crowding by the phone, Michael notices. He is holding the board, reading over it. Again and again. He is smiling but isn’t laughing. 

They don’t want parties to be about gifts, or for River to associate love with material things. But, Isobel is damn force and Kyle looks put out as well. So, once everyone leaves and all that is left is family, Neethi, and Samba, River smashes his way through his small pile of presents. Michael makes sure to keep track of every gift and who gave what. River is much more interested in the wrapping paper, but everyone seems pleased. 

Michael removes the slip of paper from his pocket, strikes a line through ‘presents’ with his pen. He curls his hand around the scrap, making it a ball, and tosses it into the garbage. 

Then he walks right out of his apartment and closes the door behind him. 

* * *

Michael slides down the wall and plops the dirty hallway floor. Curling his knees up to his chest, he buries his head in his hands and breathes. 

His meditative state is broken by the tell-tale sounds of squeaky wheels and a ratty shoe slapping against the floor. Flipping the old, cracked board into his left hand, the boy waves enthusiastically with his right. “Hiya, Mike.”

“Hey, Jin.”

“Where little man at?”

River is the youngest on their floor, the belle of the building. Michael takes a moment and pontificates to Jin about River and his birthday party. 

“No way. One? Already?” Michael nods numbly. “There cake, or what?”

“Yeah, plenty. Go for it.”

Ever the polite boy, no matter how hard the fourteen-year-old tries to play punk, Jin knocks on the door softly. 

An exasperated Alex opens the door and then immediately softens. “Jin, hi.” He leans closer, briefly eyeing Michael still sprawled on the floor, and whispers, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Mike said there was cake?”

“Oh! Oh, of course. Take whatever you want. Take some food for Sam, too, yeah?”

“Alex—”

“I insist,” he says, taking Jin by the shoulders and steering him inside the room. “You know where the bags are.” 

Then it is just Alex, Michael, and the sound of the industrial temperature control system. 

“Shit, baby, no,” Michael chides as Alex slides down the wall to sit next to him. Alex lets out an anguished cry and few curses before he finally settles. “You shouldn’t have done that, Alex! Not with the way your leg is right now.” 

“Yeah,” Alex pants, squeezing his bad knee. “I realize that now. You are just gonna have to help me up when the time comes because we are here.” He takes a few deep breaths to get his pain under control and then he is hugging Michael to his side. “Wow, what a great party. That ball pit was genius.” 

“Just relieved I pulled it off.”

“You sure did, Super Dad. River is fit to burst.”

At that, Michael cries, hiding his face in Alex’s shoulder.

"And Kyle said—” Michael, unable to speak more, lets out quiet sobs. 

Alex’s arms tense around him. “What did Kyle say?”

“He said that I was—He said—He was just so n-nice.” 

Alex doesn’t pry. He presses a dozen kisses to the crown of Michael’s head and then leans back. Content to let Michael soothe himself back until steady breathing. Once he settles, Alex speaks again. 

“You know, I think that between Isobel and myself we got every single muscle movement from both of you.”

Blowing his nose in the party napkin Alex holds out for him, Michael wheezes, “Why?”

Alex takes a deep breath. He runs his fingers along with the apple of Michael’s cheeks.

“Because I was so fucking wrong. Blinded by my own issues with this shit. He _will_ remember. Because someday, like, fifteen years from now that kid in there is gonna post the pictures on Instagram on Father’s Day. Or whatever the kids are using then. Maybe we’ll circle back to MySpace. Either way, he’ll start out pithy about how his Papa was such a stud when he was young or how he can’t believe we let his hair look like that. But, he’ll also mention how we didn’t have a ton of money back then. How his Papa always made sure he had everything he needed. Made him feel loved and special. How he wouldn’t choose a different father if he could.”

Michael can't speak, so he just kisses Alex with all the strength he has left.

He wants to tell Alex about the dreams he’s been having. He needs to tell him. But, not today. Maybe tomorrow, he can tell Iz and Alex at once. Stifle the blow. The two strongest beings he knows. Soul divas and shit. 

The creaks open next to them, they pull apart as Isobel pops her head out. “Sorry to interrupt, but River looks like he is about to banshee. Your work people are still in there. He might break the sound barrier. What should I do?” 

Michael sniffs. He sits up a little straighter. “Bring the banshee to me.”

In a flash, River is on his lap. Hitching breaths, twitching body, and all. He situates the boy he is perched on his thighs with his back against Michael’s chest. He crisscrosses his arms around River tightly. “Oh, this is just a case of the overwhelms, isn’t it, Mouse? It’s okay, Iz. Alright, let’s give this a shot for a minute or two, huh?” 

Alex slings one arm over Michael’s shoulder and slowly places his other hand palm up on River’s belly. River immediately begins methodically wrapping his hand around each of Alex’s individual fingers and giving them a little tug. 

Eventually, slowly, River relaxes, gripping Michael’s arm with one hand and focusing on his task of touching each of Alex’s fingers with the other. 

“Wow,” Isobel says, sniffles and blinks rapidly. “I—”

“Don’t need to apologize for a fifth time.” Michael looks up at her from his place on the cold floor. His smile was just as bright as the one he was wearing watching River grip Alex’s fingers. “We love you, Auntie Izzy.”

“Yeah, we really do,” Alex agrees. 

Lower lip trembling as she beams, Isobel lets out a long exhale and goes back inside. 

Lessening his hold on River bit by bit, Michael feels every part of him relax. River, signaling that he wants his long day to be finally over, sags against Michael’s chest and closes his eyes. 

“The aquarium," he whispers. "They have a baby day in a couple of weeks. I think he would like it. I can get a half-off ticket for me through the school and, uh, he would get in free.”

Alex’s smile is a pleased one. He presses a soft, but long kiss to Michael’s hair. “He would love that. It would make him so happy. Just you and him and penguins.”

“Then you could meet us for lunch at Veggie Galaxy or somethin’. We can tell you all about our day.”

“That sounds fun.” 

“Yeah,” Michael sighs, settling his head into the crook of Alex’s neck and watching the rise and fall of River’s chest. “It’ll be good.” 

* * *

On Monday morning, Michael hangs up River’s milestone board where everyone can see clearly when they come into his tiny cubicle. 

He finds his crumbled Stop and Shop receipt taped in the upper-righthand corner. It is his to-do list. At the bottom of it, written in Alex’s neat, all caps handwriting, is: 

“10/28/23. All tasks were completed by Michael, under much self-imposed duress. River and Alex had a lot of fun and hope that Papa did, too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Max and Isobel, though meaning well, are dismissive and insulting regarding where they think River's progress should be. They use language like "verbally delayed" and "socially behind" in a non-constructive way.


End file.
